


The Familiar Wilds

by Cerebulon



Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Eventual Lesbian Werewolves, Eventual Relationships, F/F, Gals being pals, Ordinators abound, Vivec City
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:30:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerebulon/pseuds/Cerebulon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a bizarre, frightening encounter on the quiet farm roads of the Ascadian Isles, a simple Dunmer barkeep must face jarring changes to her life, and to herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You worry too much, Ferise!”

The towering Ordinator gave a stern frown as she reaffixed her golden visage, lending her already raspy voice a muffled metallic edge, “Not without good reason, Avoni. The city is dangerous enough at night as it is without you venturing out in the wilds every night. You should really think about finding a place -”

“Oh, relax!”, the shorter Dunmer interrupted, teasingly, “The Isles are hardly ‘the wilds’, it’s plantation land all the way home from here, what’s going to get me, a lost netch?”, she snuffed another sconce with an amused smirk.

Ferise tried to butt in, having thought of at least a dozen things worse than a stray netch that could be on the roads one way or another, but the barkeep wouldn’t let her get a word in.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m going unprepared.”, she gently patted a rough leather scroll case hooked to her belt. At her friend’s insistence she had purchased a… Passable, at best, scroll of Sanctuary from the next Canton over. She didn’t believe that she would ever need it to use it - or perhaps she just hoped - but at least she thought it might ease the resident Ordinator’s nerves. It hadn’t.

“You’re not a mage, Avoni. One protective scroll might not be enough. Okay, you might be able to outrun a riled up scrib. But a nix hound? What if you run into bandits?”

The barkeep playfully prodded the breastplate of her friend’s shimmering Indoril armour, “Oh, and here I thought bandits were your job to worry about?”, she brushed past, shrugging her heavy travel cloak about her shoulders.

“You know well what I mean, sera.” The guard stepped back ahead of the other Dunmer, and pulled open the heavy front door, filling the now dark tavern with a dim light from the corridor lamps. She held it with her back and gestured for the barmaid to go first. She did not seem amused, “Just try to be safe out there. There's plenty of room in Saint Delyn that I'm sure you could afford just as easily as that old place of yours.”

The waistworks corridors were deserted at this time of night. The last of the club's patrons had staggered home over an hour ago, and even the most rowdy of drunks had long since stumbled clear of the halls lest they attract the ire of the guard. Just rows of locked doors and bland, inoffensive religious tapestries stretching off in either direction where during the day droves of House Redoran officials and their array of colourful rivals and partners would hurry back and forth going about no doubt vital House business. Manos, the club's owner, was still inside, but Temple law required the rented units be locked up each night.

“I will, Ferise. I'm only messing with you. I like the walk, what can I say?”, smiled the elf as she locked the inn's front door and handed the notched key to the Ordinator for safekeeping.  
Pausing a moment, she tipped her chin up, puffed out her shoulders and began to recite, “Thank you for your daring, Lord Vivec! I shall not shun risk, nor hide behind the mask of cautious counsel, for fortune favors the bold!”

She continued, one finger raised facing the Ordinator as she backed away down the halls, until she reached the corner where she relaxed her pompous posture. “See you tomorrow, Ferise!” she called back in a much friendlier tone. The Ordinator, who’d been watching quite unconvinced - she assumed, it was hard to tell behind that mask - gave her a small disapproving shake of the head, followed by a parting half-wave half-salute before turning to walk the opposite way.

Avoni’s face instantly dropped to a blank neutral as she turned to the exterior door. Any other Ordinator probably wouldn’t allow that kind of – probably blasphemous - nonsense for a moment, but she and Ferise had known each other ever since the guard had been assigned to the tavern many years ago. Not that the Shalk & Sword had ever needed such heavy guard, but the presence of a Temple representative of sorts kept the more pious Redoran clientèle pleased, and no doubt the Temple benefited from having an ear on the House's business. At least, she didn't seem to mind her teasing. Maybe she should actually ask some time, just to be sure.

 

* * *

 

The night air was biting after the sheltered warmth of the Waistworks. The cold season was beginning to show itself, and the valley-like canals of the city only served to act as funnels for the sea wind, especially it seemed at night without the comparative cover of the bustling daytime crowds. There was no wait for a Gondola at this hour, and after a brief exchange of words she was left to herself with only the lap of the boatman's oar in the murky water. It seemed somehow even quieter so low in the water, only the streams of rank smelling water pouring from the canton's lower levels at regular intervals broke the peace in the usually lively streets.

Ferise was right though, she knew. The roads out of town were only lightly patrolled by the Watch, and while generally peaceful, didn't quite compare to the safety of Vivec City proper. For all her teasing and unphased appearances, they were just that, appearances. She was far from free of concern. In fact, she'd spent a little extra gold having the mage she had bought her protection scroll from teach her the proper pronunciation of the Daedric script and gone over it nightly in her head on her quiet journeys home. Apparently, she only had to unroll the parchment and say the words aloud and she'd be safe. For two minutes. Which would be long enough to get away. Wouldn't it?

As they approached the still, open water where the city's Foreign Quarter formed a calm, sheltered lagoon, there was the distinct sound of jovial laughter echoing from the arched walkways above and out of sight. She had no doubt that the canton was no more alive at two in the morning than the rest of the city, only that Nords and their like had no sense of when to keep their voices down. It seemed unlikely that the noise would penetrate the thick stone walls of the distant residential cantons she supposed, but it still seemed rude.

Entering more open water on the outskirts, the high walls on either side fell away to reveal the full splendour of the night sky. On a darker night it was near impossible to make out the landscape ahead, but the sky was remarkably clear tonight and the twin moons bright, illuminating the Ascadian Isles not all that far from the city's edge. A faint sea mist had begun to form around them giving them the appearance of rolling hills rather than islands. Avoni watched the horizon in awe. She'd seen the view a hundred times but on nights like this it still took her breath away.

The gondolier moored at the far end of the Foreign Quarter, right at the edge of the city. It wasn't far to walk now, but Ferise had certainly managed to make the trip feel that bit longer with her friendly concern. But she hadn't seen a nix hound this close to the coast in forever. It would be fine. She steeled herself, wrapping her arms into her cloak close to her chest, and pressed on across the last bridge into the Isles.

The difference from city to road was stark. The Temple would not allow commoners to construct so much as a vendor's stall beyond the official city limits, let alone any homes, and so no slums had been allowed to grow. They would be welcomed instead into the city, but not on its outskirts. An act of charity with the added bonus of keeping up a tidy appearance, she supposed. As a result, one step beyond the grand arched bridge to the city was almost immediately indistinguishable any other part of the Isles for miles around.

The road was long, but at least straight enough that she could see far ahead most of the way aside from a few rocks and bends now and then. The path itself was raised slightly above the pastures, rice paddies and fields that lined most of the way on both sides, and only a handful of shrubs and a light scattering of tall, spindly trees obscured her view across the terrain for an impressive distance. The moonlit mist gave the entire scene a slightly surreal lighting, almost bright despite the dark of night, though with a fraction of the visibility. She'd made this trip twice every day for over three years, yet somehow the mid-night haze made the usually serene surroundings seem just slightly unfamiliar. Despite herself, Avoni felt safe in the unusual glow. Enough at least for her to stop nervously reaching for her scroll case - after a little while.

The dark elf reached a blind bend in the road where it curved around an enormous, gnarled old mushroom. By now she was almost relaxed, picking up a calmer pace than the semi-hurried stride she had set off with, but thought enough to idly glance to her side as she passed a beaten plantation cart track that ran gently uphill and inland. She caught a glimpse of something faint, silhouetted at the crest of the hill and kept moving.

Wait, what? She paused and looked back.

Nothing at the crest but... Just barely, movement on the track. Whatever it was it was too dark to discern against the ground, but it was moving fast her way. Really fast.

An Imperial cavalryman, maybe? No, she would have heard its hooves a long time ago going that speed.

She kept walking, picking up her pace, hoping it was nothing. Hoping it hadn't seen her. She glanced back, it was gone. But where? It couldn't have just... Gone? Then movement, now in the wickwheat fields. The leafy plants now audibly rustling and - her eyes darting to find it - among them, a vague black shape cutting straight towards her.

She broke into a run, fumbling furiously at her belt, trying to unlatch her scroll. With a pop, it opened, she glanced back again.  
It was right there! What was it, it was right there?! She could hear it breathing. Bounding. Panting. Behind her.

She dropped the scroll. It scattered uselessly to the roadside.

Panicking, she turned, shielding herself desparately with her arms. It was upon her.

A colossal clawed hand swiped at her shoulder... And knocked her hard aside. She fell roughly, tumbling into the ditch, yelping in horror, and... It wasn't upon her?

What?

The thumping bounds continued, away from her... And away. Into the pastures. Gone. Silent. No, still thumping. Her heart.

What?!

It took a moment to work it out.  
She wasn't dead?

The Dunmer slowly lifted her head from the rocky ground in disbelief. Relief. There was nothing in sight. No dark creature. Nothing.

As she frantically looked around her she realised: Her arm was wet. Soaking wet. And it... Smelt of something. She cautiously reached over with her other hand. It was dark, it was... She sniffed it. It was blood. Oh no. Ooh no. She didn't feel badly hurt but... That was blood. She'd heard once that you could have your arm torn off and just not register it for a full minute or more. How long had it been?

The terrified elf gripped her shoulder tightly, still not feeling any immense pain. That was good? Or, was that worse? Stumbling to her feet, she hurried home with renewed urgency, panting herself now and tears of sheer panic streaming down her face.

She reached her house in a frightened blur, struggling with the lock for what felt like an eternity. Bursting inside, she slammed the door behind her, collapsing against the wall by the fireplace, sliding down to a hunched ball in the faintest light of the dying embers. She sat there a moment, or maybe a while, before building the courage to timidly look back to her blood-soaked side in the darkness

A log tossed clumsily into the hearth illuminated her body, making clearer the severity of her wounds. Her shirt was totally drenched across one side, clinging to the skin underneath hideously.

Shaking, with her other hand she unfastened the shirt, slowly, cautiously peeling it away from her injured arm. As the fabric came unstuck from her, it revealed more and more drying blood coating her skin. With each passing inch she became more apprehensive, knowing that any second she would see the full extent of her injuries. But it never came.

She ran her hand across her blood covered skin. Somehow, it was almost totally dry. She squinted in the firelight, mouth agape in disbelief. She ran it back and forth, again. Some of the blood came off revealing only the faintest graze on her blue-grey skin. That couldn't be right? Was she dreaming? She looked back to her discarded shirt, drenched in what was unmistakably blood. All of a sudden the smell seemed overwhelming, the room spun and she was out cold.


	2. Chapter 2

The thick heat of the midday sun woke Avoni in a daze. The light pouring through her unshuttered window had somehow failed to disturb her sleep, nor had her awkward position, propped up against the hard stone fireplace, though the stiffness from the latter was difficult for her to ignore.

She squinted against the harsh light. Had last night been a dream? It couldn't have been.

Holding her painful neck, she looked to where she faintly remembered discarding her ruined shirt, and sure enough, it was as gruesome as she had feared. But if it hadn't actually hurt her? Whose blood was this? The creature's? Somebody else?

She awkwardly pushed herself to her feet and grabbed her wash pail from by the door.

Her family had lived out here since long before she was born. The house had been a little cramped growing up, with her parents and maternal grandmother sharing the modest two rooms between the four of them. Things were different now that they were all gone, having passed away a long time ago now, their cremations at the old family tomb far to the north on the bitter coast had been the furthest she'd ever gone from home, and now the space was more than enough for a lone elf to get by. Comfortable even, if occasionally lonely without the cramped activity of her youth. Naturally, Avoni was hesitant to ever leave behind the house she had spent her entire childhood in to live in the city. It seemed wrong to even consider leaving behind her great grandparents' home for some rented room, no matter how far the walk – or potentially dangerous the journey now seemed.

The downstairs room was simple, but comfortable enough. Most of the room was taken up by the fireplace and stacks of wicker baskets – mostly empty, but some containing bundles of dried foods. A rough wooden table served as her dining area, as well as where she spent most of her time at home. A small stack of belongings set to one side comprised most of what she owned for herself: A couple of old books, the Lessons of Vivec, candles and the odd trinket she had collected growing up, from the fields and the sea shore. Her favourite was a brilliant blue decorated vial that had washed up in the bay. She'd always liked to imagine that it had belonged to some fantastic mage from the mainland who could do anything they ever imagined. Older now, she supposed it was probably Telvanni junk from Vivec City, but by now it was special to her in its own way.

Magic had seemed like such a wonderful concept ever since she was very small, and she'd always hoped she would learn herself. She'd been in awe of people using simple spells in their daily lives but hadn't shown any ability whatsoever as a child. She knew it would come eventually as she aged, but it never had. She'd never even got to grips with her race's own innate abilities which had been more than a little heartbreaking when for the longest time it had been all she had ever wished for. Her mother had told her that perhaps her birthsign just wasn't right for it, that somehow birth under the Thief wouldn't allow for it. Ever since, she'd despised her sign and felt a nagging bitterness towards those with magical skill, but perhaps last night the Thief's luck had finally protected her?

 

Outside was every bit as sweltering and unpleasant as indoors. The cool mist from the night before had turned to a thick, oppressive humidity that hung over the saltrice paddies like a wet rag. A faint  dancing haze obscured the view down the road, and Avoni thanked the Three that she wouldn't have to travel until much later.

In the daylight, she soon realised that the frightening amount of blood she'd seen, seemingly all over her arm and shoulder was only a light smattering where it had soaked through the cloth. She filled the bucket with clean water from her barrel supply and began to wash. The blood came away easily, and it was good to be clear of the thick dried sweat from her hurried flight. She took the time to examine herself, looking over her arm especially and feeling along her side and back for any indication of cuts. Nothing. Only some slight grazes on her knees and elbow, presumably from when she'd fallen – no, been pushed – into the roadside. She suspected she'd have a few nasty bruises from the landing, but that aside. Nothing.

The wash was a relief, and the cool water helped her wake up. She was still shaken. Very, shaken. But knowing that she hadn't been seriously hurt like she'd been so afraid was one weight off her mind, at the very least. But that begged the question; why? What sort of rampaging, or even fleeing, creature doesn't hurt somebody who gets in its way? Her own uncle had been trampled to death by a spooked kwama worker in the mines, just for standing in its way. But this thing had pushed her aside?

After a change of clothes and a simple breakfast of cool scrib jelly, Avoni reluctantly tended to her shirt from the previous night. It didn't take much to see that it was quite ruined. Even if she spent the whole afternoon trying to get the stain out, the faintest remainder might raise some eyebrows from the patrons at the Sword & Shalk. While the Redoran might favour the “strong”, a commoner like herself showing signs of having been in some kind of fight was usually looked down upon. Manos probably wouldn't want somebody looking remotely like a street thug working the bar. One shirt wasn't worth that risk.

Usually she might toss ruined clothing in with her food waste – shells, bones, carapaces – for one of the nearby plantation's workers to collect in exchange for a meagre handful of saltrice. But she feared a blood-stained garment might attract unwanted, and perhaps unwarranted attention among the rest of the fertiliser. Instead, she thought it best to dump it in the sea inlet a short distance behind her house where she usually disposed of less “useful” waste, broken pottery and the like.

The walk wasn't far, entirely bearable even in the muggy heat of the midday. The way, little more than a trodden path through the wild grass, ran between two sizeable saltrice paddy fields. A handful of shackled slaves tended to the crops, ankle deep in muddy water. It was hard to make them out among the expanses of green, but she knew they would be mostly Argonians. Much easier to get working in the water than others, she reckoned. Maybe in this heat it would remind them of home. She wasn't sure if that was better, or worse for them. She didn't suppose it mattered.

The sight of dozens of figures on either side reassured her, however. Knowing they were there. It was quite the difference from the eerie emptiness of her walks home. Before, she'd almost... Enjoyed them. Enjoyed the feeling of being alone with the world stretching out around her. But after last night the idea seemed frightening, even.

The elf reached the rough shore at the water's edge. There was almost no visible tide this far into the Isles, and the sea could almost be mistaken for a lake if you didn't know better. She took a last look at the ruined shirt, bundled it up into a ball and lobbed it into the water.

It landed with an unimpressive flop, and became unrolled as it floated on the water's surface. But, not for long. Soon, an oversized slaughter fish caught the scent and darted towards the bloody rag.

Before long an entire frenzy had begun, expecting a hearty meal from the cloth as it was torn to shreds. Avoni couldn't help but shudder, imagining if somebody had been inside the shirt being ripped apart too. If it had been her. If she had been torn to shreds last night. The fish dispersed, disappointed, but Avoni was left wondering.

 

The afternoon passed without incident, and before long Avoni had to set out to work in the city. Mercifully, the sun had already lowered in the sky, and was to her back for most of the journey.

Beast slaves still toiled in the fields along the way, and would continue to do so until sunset. The slave drivers meanwhile, mostly sat or leaned in the shade underneath the giant emperor parasol mushrooms, sipping at large waterskins frequently. She'd watched them marched home along this same road before, and had almost pitied them. She knew it was ridiculous to feel sorry for the beasts, but seeing them so exhausted was enough to sway her, just a little.

It wasn't long before she passed by the uneven track where the... Thing had chased her down. It was weird to see it again, such a familiar spot that looked no different than it ever had. She felt like something should have changed but, no. It was just another spot on the road.

She peered over the side of the road, into the ditch where she vaguely remembered having dropped her one singular line of defence, the sanctuary scroll. No sign of it. The crops were thick enough that surely it hadn't rolled further into the field, but it wasn't anywhere to be found. That was annoying. A little unnerving. And expensive.

The roads were relatively busy at this time, with small guar caravans servicing the plantations and the occasional traveller on their way to even as far as Suran. Even more so as the roads began to converge on the bridge into Vivec. An overworked diplomat, a hurried priestess, an Imperial guardsman looking grossly out of place sat on a log by the road, boiled alive in her thick leather-clad armour, helmet resting feebly under one hand. Again, at least, Avoni felt somewhat more at ease as the number of travellers grew.

 

The city of Vivec never truly rested until the very deep of night. Even as Avoni made her way through the Foreign Quarter, the crowds showed no signs of letting up, and the peddler's and vendor's stalls would be teeming with bizarre and exotic goods from across the entire Empire until well after sunset. She hadn't dreamed of buying anything from these people, with the even reasonably respectable outlanders owning real, rented shop space inside the canton itself rather than setting up out on the terrace streets. Still, there was no better place to find unusual books from foreign lands which, on occasion, were worth a browse even if they were well beyond her price range. The same went for the strange, strong scented foods and spices from as far away as Elsweyr that at least made her trips through the district interesting. She didn't see the appeal of most of the foods, though. An old Breton man was trying to sell chickens. Who would eat a bird?

The atmosphere changed almost immediately crossing into the Redoran canton, with the throngs of men and mer making way for almost exclusively more ornately dressed Dunmer of every house, making their way hastily back and forth across the central part of the city. Members of different houses giving each other almost comically wide berths as they crossed paths always gave Avoni a little source of amusement on her way to the club. It was much quieter, too. Bellowing merchants and the clamour of the crowd made way for mostly stern footsteps and hushed, private business whispered between small groups of officials moving to and fro.

The vast stone shape of the cantons cast a cool shade over most of the city, and the sheltered canals channelled a pleasant sea breeze through the streets, a much needed respite from the suffocating heat of sunny side of the cantons.

As Avoni reached the door to the Sword & Shalk she yawned quietly into her balled fist, and stepped inside. Immediately she was greeted by the animated sounds – and smell - of a dozen half-drunk (And entirely drunk) merchants and their cordial house representatives trying to out-entertain one another for one valuable deal or another. Secondly, she was met by the welcoming grin of Manos, the owner. Despite having been working the bar all day, the round old elf was as jovial as ever. He raised his voice above the din, but only enough for Avoni to hear.

“Avoni, my dear! I trust you are well?”

“Yes. Good, thank you.” she smiled, politely. She didn't want to alarm the old man right away with how she really felt after last night, “Good day, so far?”.

Manos launched into a slow, meandering description of more or less everything that had happened since that morning. He usually had a way of making the most mundane daily events into good-natured tales to cheer anybody up, but today Avoni wasn't so up to it. She smiled along, and laughed at his jokes as she readied herself for a full evening's work, but somehow being back at the club let her mind wander more than even the roads. Maybe it was that she felt she should have been able to let her guard down after the long walk, but she found herself focusing more on the events of the night than on Manos' flavourful narration.

As a small party of Hlaalu diplomats filed in, Manos slipped away to give them a warm greeting, leaving Avoni in peace. Ferise stood near-motionless against the wall just across the counter, but gave an acknowledging nod when Avoni glanced her way. The barkeep shuffled a little her way.

“Avoni, you look exhausted. Did you sleep at all?”

Avoni's eyes darted down, “Yes, I... It's a long story. I'll tell you later, alright?”

“Did something happen last night, sera?”

“No... Yes. I said later. I'm fine.”, Manos signalled her over and she slid away from her friend. It was impossible to tell what the Ordinator was thinking. She supposed that was the whole idea of the lavish masks, but anonymity and intimidation wasn't much good when you were just trying to hold a friendly conversation.

She brought over a flask of shein to the Hlaalu party and began to uncork it, but an extravagantly dressed Altmer wearing a fine noble's sash quickly waved her away silently with the back of his hand. The other three Dunmer didn't pay her any notice. It wasn't uncommon for foreign house Hlaalu clients to demand “neutral ground”, which given the outright hostility of the Telvanni, usually meant the Redoran public houses.

Avoni spent much of the evening trying to avoid discussing the previous night's events with Ferise, who seemed insistent on bringing it up whenever there was a quiet moment at her end of the bar. She was just concerned, she knew, and her avoidance was probably just worrying her. But going into any detail would just make things worse, she knew. And it wasn't the time. She brushed off the topic, reassuring her that it was fine each time, and finding something to be doing a few feet the other way.

 

Hours passed. As the day turned to night, the clients gradually filtered from official parties and discussions, to mostly off-duty Redoran staff trying to unwind. The Altmer dignitary had, not all that unexpectedly, thrown a small fit, but shown himself out – in a typically dramatic fashion – before Ferise had had to step in. The departure from diplomats laughing false, diplomatic laughs just to keep each other happy, to genuine heartfelt laughter among friends was a welcome one on any night, but tonight especially.

With the formalities of the day over, Ferise had retired to her usual perch on the furthest corner bar stool. It was a well-deserved rest after a long day more or less standing at attention for the sake of Temple appearances, and the late night crowd were far less troubled by such theatrics and she could finally relax a little. Manos had long since left Avoni in charge to head back to his downstairs quarters after an already long shift. The few lingering regulars seemed about done for the night, content to wallow in their drunkenness together until closing.  
Avoni poured out a small cup of mazte, and set it in front of the Ordinator. She lifted off her ornate visor and laid it on the counter, downing the drink in one grateful gulp. No Temple officials were going to be in here this late, not sober at least.

As the barkeep turned to put the flask away, a gold plated hand gently touched her arm,

“Avoni. Are you alright? Really?”, the Ordinator looked exhausted and overheated, but her voice showed genuine concern.

“I...”, she turned and set the heavy clay flask back on the bar with a defeated sigh, “Ran into something weird last night. On the east road.”

The larger elf hesitated, furrowing her brow, “Something weird?”

“I wish I could say what, but... It was like nothing I'd ever seen. Not that I got a good look at it. Something fast, and dark, and... I'm not sure. It was big, that's for sure.”

Ferise only looked to the side, jaw hanging slightly open as she strained to think, “An overgrown nix hound, maybe? Avoni I've told you, you never know what's on those roads... You're not hurt are you?”

“It wasn't a nix hound! I swear to you it had fur, covering its whole body.”

“Wait, I think I've heard of those. From way out west on the mainland, horrid creatures. Lions, I think?”

That made sense, some odd Imperial creature brought over from Cyrodiil. Avoni felt almost relieved to know what it could have been, “Oh, you could be right. But, do those things...”, she trailed off and went quiet.

Ferise looked at her expectedly, “What?”

“I don't know, it just kind of... Swatted me aside?”

“Are you hurt? Avoni, please, if you're hurt I can help you.”

“No. I told you, I'm not hurt! That's what's bothering me. I mean, I got a few scrapes from the fall but... Why didn't it kill me? Isn't that what wild animals do? It was... It can't have been chasing me then, but even if they're panicked? Isn't that what they do?”

The other elf had no answer for that. The guard probably knew about as much about that kind of thing as she did.

“I think it might have been injured, too?”

“Hold on, I thought you said you didn't get a good look at it?”

“No. I mean... When I got home I was. Covered... Soaked in blood. But it wasn't mine. I... Wasn't hurt. Not badly, not like that.”

Ferise raised her eyebrows, alarmed “Vivec preserve you! That must have been a fright!”

The barkeep nodded, “You have no idea. I thought for sure I was going to die, and... Well, that's why I didn't sleep so great last night.”

The Ordinator hmmed, “If it was injured then with any luck one of the plantation workers-”

“Slaves”, Avoni thought.

“...Might find it dead in a field somewhere. You know what, I'll keep an ear out for news from that way. See if anybody's heard something about a rampant lion, or whatever it was.”

“Thank you. That would really help me out, I just... Don't want to run into that thing again just in case it doesn't show mercy next time.”

Ferise almost laughed, “It's an animal, Avoni. It wasn't 'mercy', you just got lucky.”

“Right.”, she wasn't so sure.

 

As they'd spoken, most of the remaining patrons had sluggishly made their way out. Avoni went through the motions of closing up, and clearing away the chaos of earthen cups the clients had left behind. Ferise had gone into a bit more detail about these lions she'd heard about from Imperial merchants, which had really eased her mind regarding the mysterious beast. Everything sounded about right. Maybe she would check in with one of the merchants in the Foreign Quarter tomorrow to be sure. She was dreading the walk home however – lion or not, the strange attack was still fresh in her mind and returning to the scene in the same darkness seemed more than a little daunting.

Ferise's gravelly voice broke the silence as they stepped out the door, “If you're worried, I can walk you back?”

She must have looked even more nervous than she'd thought, “Oh! You don't have to do that! It's a long way to go!” She didn't mean that.

“Really, it's fine.”

Avoni smiled timidly, relieved, “Thank you”

The armoured figure led the way towards her friend's usual exit - a way she'd never been before as far as Avoni knew, but her confidence was already comforting, and the barkeep picked up her step to catch up and keep her going the right way.

On the street, they kept a short distance apart, with Ferise trailing slightly behind as she was technically still on duty and shouldn't be seen walking with a civilian. Maybe a House Indoril member, but never a commoner.

Vivec was usually safe, even late at night, but it put Avoni at ease knowing that her friend was – quite literally – watching her back as she made her way through the eerily quiet Foreign Quarter, the faint sound of clinking metal trailing not far behind. Once across the perimeter bridge, she turned to wait and sure enough, within a minute a familiar figure was striding towards her.

The Ordinator halted a few feet away, lifting her plated arms to her blank golden face and, surprisingly, rather than lift away her face plate as she so often did, pulled off the entire elaborate helmet.

For all the years they had known each other, Avoni had not once seen Ferise without her tall golden helm, and the sight left her taken back. The taller elf had a striking head of short, dishevelled hair almost as red as her eyes, and now that it was unobscured, the strong angles of her jaw were apparent. Her face gave a casual smile and she continued her stride.

“Let's get going then!”, she called openly.

The pair walked a little while in total silence before the red haired Ordinator broke the silence once again, “What's on your mind, sera? You look a little...” she paused, “Bewildered?”

Avoni looked up from the ground, “Oh, no! It's just, I don't think I've ever seen your... Head before?”, she laughed nervously.

Ferise let out a loud guffaw, “By the Three! Is that it?! Well, what do you think?”

“It's... Um. I like it. It's good. Your hair I mean.”, she replied timidly, stumbling over her words.

“I see. Just my hair, then?”, Ferise raised an eyebrow.

The barkeep was speechless, and she knew she was blushing which only made her more embarrassed.

Her friend finally stopped laughing to herself after what seemed like an eternity, “You know I'm just kidding, Avoni. Thank you though.” she said in a much calmer voice.

Avoni wasn't sure if that was better. Until after a brief pause Ferise added, “You're not so bad yourself.” and humiliated her completely anew. She gave the armoured elf a gentle nudge in the ribs with her elbow. She probably wouldn't feel it but it was the thought that counted.

Although she was being continuously mortified, before too long Avoni realised that they'd already come a long way and her apprehension hadn't even crossed her mind for a moment. She also realised that her friend had probably being trying to do exactly that on purpose, and she was wholly, wholly grateful. For all her ability to appear stern and official at work, Ferise really knew how to cheer somebody up. It seemed a real shame that they'd never really spent time together outside of a little downtime when the club was quiet. She hoped they would again some time soon.

By the time they came to the rugged side path where she'd seen the thing – the lion, Ferise had thankfully eased off on her teasing, and Avoni was able to point it out as they passed. The sky was too overcast to really make out more than the shape of the terrain against the sky at a distance, but they paused a moment and heard nothing. Ferise gave a reassuring smile and nod that nothing was there tonight and that everything was fine, and so everything was fine.

The rest of the trip passed in no time at all, Avoni sharing tales of her childhood as she passed by familiar fields and mundane landmarks that her friend had probably never seen before but held special meaning to her in one way or another. How she used to bother travellers, but never past that particular rock. Or how there'd been a big old tree in that spot but slavers pulled it down. It was weird, she'd never really had friends out here? Even as a child the only other people her age were further down the road at the plantation, and were either slaves, or slave masters' children and she was never allowed to associate with either of them, so she'd never been able to share this little area she called home with anybody before. Not in person, at least.

As they approached Avoni's little house, their pace slowed to a crawl. Avoni wasn't sure if she was leading it with her reluctance to say goodbye and Ferise was just following suit, or if she felt the same way, though she'd been mostly listening to Avoni's random tales and memories. They stopped a little short of the door.

“I see why you wouldn't want to leave this place, sera.” the red-haired elf remarked, “And the walk was more pleasant than I had imagined.”

Avoni wasn't sure what to say, “Thank you, Ferise. I'm glad you came with me. It was all the better with company.”. She stepped forward and gave the towering elf a warm, grateful hug which Ferise returned with her one free hand. Her armour was chill to the touch by the night air, but the gentle strength in just her one arm was unmistakably genuine.

The two of them shared a last smile, and Avoni slid into her dim house. She quickly tossed a log on the dying hearth and lit a small lantern from the embers, which she used to climb the stairs to the upper floor and out onto the roof terrace, where she watched the grand golden figure march off into the darkness

 

Back downstairs, she sat to prepare a small kwama egg over the now blazing fire. As she stared absently into the flames, exhausted but simultaneously relieved from the day's events, she caught sight of something lying on the floor by the door as if slid underneath; a piece of parchment of some sort? Intrigued, she retrieved it from the ground. Immediately, she recognised it. Her scroll of sanctuary?! It seemed a little dirty, and had come unfurled but otherwise... This was most definitely her own scroll. Turning it over, in one corner she noticed a neatly inscribed note in some of the tiniest, yet tidiest handwriting she had ever seen. She brought it close to her lantern to read:

_Traveller,_  
_I noticed this scroll lying discarded in the mud not far from here. It is my understanding that it belongs to you. I hope you are in good health and were not harmed by its absence, nor that which might have led to its little misadventure._  
_\- A friend_

Strange. She was glad that her scroll hadn't blown off into the wilderness but... How had this person known to deliver it here? And “A friend”? The only friend she had was Ferise and she most definitely had not delivered this since she'd been at her side all day long, and she'd watched her leave. She could only assume it had been somebody from the plantation, since they were the only people that for sure knew where she lived. But she hadn't told a single one of them about her scroll, let alone that she'd lost it and it hadn't been here this morning.

Despite everything, she was beginning to feel deeply on edge again. Who knew her? She couldn't think. Why would somebody know to bring a lost scroll here of all places? She honestly couldn't think. Was it a coincidence? It had to be, it was just a friendly passer by leaving a nice note. I had to be. She racked her brain as she ate, and as she climbed into bed, but she was too tired for this. Too tired.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Dust. She smelled dust in the air. Followed by the sound of water rushing through the enclosed darkness towards her until... She was running. Hard coastal wind beat against her face. She wasn't sure why she was running. She knew she had to, that it was urgent. The few wisps of cloud in the night sky rushed by her overhead. Her only thought was to run.

The road was unfamiliar, but it didn't matter. She blinked and it was gone. Tall leafy plants towered around her, each whipping her face as she blindly pushed through. The crops seemed to go on forever until in an instant she had burst from the end and onto the road. Here, she knew to stop.

A dozen figures were frozen on the road ahead of her, chained. Every one of them with their gaze fixed firmly on her. At their head, a leather-clad Dunmer reached for a well-polished dagger. Then he was dead. Then he was on the ground. The frenzied panic of ten chained men trying to flee followed. Stumbling, clattering. Without even thinking, she was chasing them down. A young Khajiit snapped his tail out of her reach by just an inch, glancing back in unmistakable terror. It was hardly fair – cruel, even – but she didn't care.

Abruptly, her hair was caught in something, jerking her backwards off her feet. Immediately, she spun around to free herself from whatever tree had snagged her – then it pulled back. Not a branch, an arm. The dead Dunmer's arm. Armour torn open. She'd done that. Chest torn open. She'd done that. Why? Why had she done that? His arms, visibly shattered, misshapen and yet... Gripping her ragged hair with unnatural strength. Unmovable. She didn't even try to move. She didn't want to try. A whole canopy of twisted branches seemed to obscure the moonlight. Only they sprouted from the Dunmer's cracked head and seemed to almost envelop her own. From his dead eyes, something else seemed to watch her. Seemed to stare into her very soul. Only, it seemed familiar. Welcome, even.

From the edge of her vision, the dead mer produced a long, ornate spear as if from nowhere. Knock. It began to bang the wooden shaft against the rough, rocky ground. Knock. It held her higher, effortlessly into his crown of labyrinthine antlers, pressing the razor-sharp tip of the spear into the underside of her chin. Knock. Straight back, precisely into position, he ran the blade towards her chin, just enough that she could feel it, not to cut. Knock. She winced, and in the blink of an eye the dead Dunmer was gone. Knock. A strong, androgynous body, skin speckled dark and light, wrapped loosely in furs. Knock. Its head had become twisted and skeletal, no longer that of any creature she knew. Knock. Knock. It's antlers almost hypnotic. Knock. Knock.

 

* * *

 

 

“Avoni!”

She shuddered awake into the light. For just a moment, something lingered in the corner of her eye. Her eyes darted to it - but it was gone - then to the open upstairs doorway.

“Avoni! Praise the Three, you're alive!”

“Ferise? What do you mean?” Avoni blinked, “What are you doing here so early? You scared me half to death!”

“Avoni, you...”, Ferise took a moment to compose herself. Her face plate was off and she looked a mess. “You were four hours late. Manos sent me to check in on you, and when you didn't answer the door for... So long. This isn't like you at all!”

Avoni sat herself up straight in bed, beginning to look worried herself. She looked over to the dimly lit window “It's that late? How...”, she rubbed her eyes roughly with the palm of her hand and shook her head. “I've just had the strangest dream.”

“Are you feeling alright? Manos says you needn't come in if you're unwell. I was just afraid something worse had happened after the other night...”

“Just tired, I think. Three preserve me, I haven't eaten a thing all day.”, her stomach grumbled, clearly concurring.

Avoni moved to sit up on the side of the bed, to which the Ordinator quickly objected, “You're sick, sera. I can't allow you to tire yourself out any more. Please, let me get you something instead.”

She hesitated, before smiling, “Thank you. Really.”

It was strange to hear the sounds of somebody preparing food downstairs. She hadn't even had visitors since her mother had passed away some years ago now. It was nice, peaceful, nostalgic even to just lie back in bed and have somebody else handle things for a little while, even if was just once.

Her mind drifted back to the bizarre dream. Already, the details were beginning to fade from her mind but it had all been so vivid. So utterly real, right up until she'd woken up - maybe even after. The fields, the dead eyes of the slave master, the antlered... Thing. She swore she'd seen it after she awoke. She told herself that dreams did that sometimes, sometimes they lingered and it wasn't anything to worry about. Dreams didn't always have to mean anything. She was just a little sick, that was all.

Ferise returned upstairs with a platter. She had removed her plated gloves and no doubt ridiculously heavy pauldrons, neither exactly suited for home cooking. She carefully set the platter on Avoni's blanketed lap, bearing a bowl of boiled brown saltrice topped with a few strips of smoked rat meat, and two steaming hot cups of black tea, one of which she took for herself. She pulled up a rickety chair from the far wall and sat down by the bed. The meal was simple, but nonetheless thoughtful. It meant a lot to Avoni.

“I'm sorry you had to come all the way out here on my behalf again, Ferise.”

“Hush, I am only doing my job. And I would gladly do it if it weren't my job, too. You are my friend, of course I'm going to look out for you.”

Avoni smiled timidly, “Thank you.”

As she ate, Avoni watched her friend. Even half-armoured and sat in a dimly lit bedroom, the Ordinator seemed on guard, but without her helmet and enormous pauldrons to mask her body she seemed less stoic, maybe even nervous. Though straight backed, she seemed to stare out at nothing in particular – some spot on the curtained window no different from any other spot. Avoni wondered if this was how she spent most of her days, behind that serene golden plated mask. She wanted to say something reassuring, or at least kind, but was too dazed and exhausted to think of anything good.

“I'm going to be fine, Ferise.” She wasn't entirely sure on that herself, but it was better than staying silent, “Don't worry about me. You mean a lot to me too and I wouldn't want you to worry.”

Ferise gave her a look. It was difficult to read her face even without the mask, but she seemed touched, or so she hoped.

They ate in silence for a little while, but felt although she really ought to mention something about her dream. If only to get it off her mind. As she scooped up the last of her rice she spoke up, “Ferise...”

Ferise looked up from her tea.

“The dream I had last night. It was a bad one.”

“I think that's to be expected when you're sick, especially after what happened the other day.”

“Yes, I know...” She trailed off, “But this felt different from any nightmare I've had before.”

Ferise sat up a little, crossing her legs, “Oh? How do you mean?”

“More real. Like I was there, only I didn't feel like myself.”

“I'm sure that's just the fatigue. You certainly seemed to be in a deep sleep. You don't suppose it meant anything did you?”

Avoni smirked for herself, she had considered it but had brushed it off as impossible, “Well, you know more about the Tribunal that I ever could.”

“No, certainly not.” her tone seemed dismissive, but she caught herself. “I mean, that really isn't typically something the Three would do. Not that it's impossible, I just think that's more the domain of Daedra.”

Avoni's chest tightened, realising that the figure she had come face to face in her dream had fit what stories she had heard of the Daedra. It had been mesmerising, controlling, and its appearance impossible. Though that was also the nature of dreams.

Ferise had noticed her silence and unwittingly grim expression.

“I hope not. It was just a dream.” she smiled reassuringly, not really believing it herself.

“You should ask a priest if you're worried about it, but if it's any consolation I'm sure it's just a fever dream.”

Avoni thought it best not to go into the details, she gave her friend a little nod, “Thank you.”

Ferise stood up from her place by the bed and effortlessly lifted the old chair back into its usual place by the wall. “Here, let me take that.” she motioned for Avoni's bowl.

It took a moment for her to respond, feeling a little lost in thought. “Oh, thanks. Are you... Are you going?”she didn't want Ferise to leave so soon. It had been so nice to have a visitor, especially one she felt so comfortable around.

“I'm still on duty, Avoni.”, she smiled to herself, “In all honesty I probably shouldn't be here at all. This is - strictly speaking - House territory.”

Avoni was touched, but that was hardly what she needed to hear to ease her nerves. “Ferise! Please don't get into any trouble on my behalf!” she spat out in disbelief.

“I'll be fine, Avoni. Isn't that what you're always telling me? If I hurry back, nobody is sure to know I was gone. Most people can't tell us apart, would you believe?” she laughed at her own joke, “I'll let Manos know not to expect you, but I'll check in again tomorrow. Just get some rest and drink your tea, it's good for fatigue, okay?”

Her partially armoured friend gave her a parting smile as she disappeared down the narrow stairway, leaving Avoni alone again in her bedroom. She sipped her now comfortably warm tea quietly, listening to the clanking sounds of Ferise re-donning her armour in the room below. She couldn't believe she would come all the way out her just to check in on her, especially when it was without official approval. It was a kindness she had never expected from anybody, and that made it all the more meaningful. She sighed as sadly she heard the front door close.

Her eyelids were heavy, but she was determined not to fall asleep again so soon, not with the prospect of more disturbing dreams. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to sit up at the very least, maybe it would even do her good. She peeled back the covers from her legs and swung herself sluggishly out of bed. The effort of that alone felt more than it ought to have, but she persevered slipping her bare feet down onto the ground.

Standing, as it happened, was too much. Right away, her head spun and she had to catch herself on her dresser. Maybe taking her cup downstairs wasn't the safest idea right now, she decided. Instead, she set it down atop the dresser and guided her way to the balcony door with the much-needed aid of the wall. A sit outside would do her good.

She hadn't quite anticipated the brightness of the midday sun, which caught her off guard intensifying her now quite urgent need to sit down. Mercifully, the sun-baked chair was hardly a step away, and the warmth of the sun's rays were soothing. She hadn't quite realised until now that she'd felt a chill that now was pleasantly relieved. There was no sign of Ferise on the road back to Vivec, nor any travellers for that matter – it was hardly the time of day to be exerting yourself. Not that the indistinct shapes amidst the haze in the fields had much choice in that matter.

She closed her eyes, soaking in the sun gratefully. But before she could even begin to enjoy it, she heard a knock on the door from downstairs. What now? Had Ferise left something behind?

She unsteadily pulled herself up from the unusually comfortable chair, and staggered back inside. The knocking continued. Hadn't Ferise let herself in earlier? It took a moment for her eyes to readjust to the comparative gloom of the house and she made her way to the stairs as the person at the door persisted. “Yes, yes! I'm coming!” she called down, as she carefully took one step at a time, sure to watch her footing as she went. She instinctively took a look around the kitchen for anything that Ferise might have left behind, but nothing seemed out of place. At least the caller had stopped their knocking.

She opened the door a crack, “Yes?”

In front of her was a young Dunmer woman dressed in simple, clean grey robes. “Good day.” she chirped, flashing her a wide, friendly grin.

Avoni blinked a few times before responding, “Can I help you? I'm feeling a little under the weather.” she struggled to hold back a yawn as she spoke, letting it slip after she'd finished speaking.

“So I've been told. Miara Dras; I'm with the Temple. Your employer sent me to check in on you?”

“Oh, good. Thank you, come on in.”, she let her words out in a jumble of niceties. Manos certainly worked fast, but she supposed he didn't know Ferise would be sticking around as long as she did. She pulled the door open all the way and ushered the priestess inside, taking a few uneven steps towards the dining table. “Can I... Get you something to eat or drink?” she asked, without really thinking about it.

“I'm here to look after you, miss er... Excuse me, what was it?”

“Avoni. Salen.”

“Avoni. Please, take a seat.”

She did so, glad to be back off her feet.

The priestess took a chair beside her, and set a leather satchel on the table between them, which clinked as it moved. “Fatigue, was it?” she asked, without looking up from the satchel she had begun to rifle through, jangling bottles as she did.

“Right. I've barely been able to keep my eyes open and...” she wasn't sure whether to continue, was any of this really relevant?

Miara's eyes met hers expectantly.

“I've been having odd dreams.”

Miara raised her eyebrows, “In what way?”

Avoni laughed to herself, this was almost exactly the line of questioning Ferise had given her. “A friend of mine thought I should bring it up, that's all. She said the Tribunal doesn't usually give people prophetic dreams, or anything like that.”

“Your friend was correct, yes.”

She swallowed hard, dreading what was to come, “She also mentioned that the Daedra are sometimes behind these things.”

“Unless it was just a dream.”

Avoni was taken aback, she hadn't even considered that she might give an answer as straightforward as that. “Yes, I mean, well...” She stammered, “It felt very... I don't know how to describe it. Real? Visceral?”

Miara nodded as Avoni spoke, as if it were entirely unsurprising, “That's to be expected with illnesses like this, I shouldn't worry about it too much. If you want to derive meaning from your dreams, there's nothing wrong with that, in fact I would encourage it. Introspection is often good for your soul. But Daedric influence is... Well, even if it were the case. It's nothing to be afraid of.”, Miara spoke softly and slowly, as if answering a simple question she had heard a thousand times before. It was good news, but at the same time Avoni didn't feel much better.

“I'm just worried, because the night before I got sick, there was this...”

Miara quietly cut her off, “I am aware. Your employer filled me in on the details. It was a wild animal, certainly. It's very common for people to contract diseases from close contact with creatures out in the wilderness. Or I suppose in this case, a beast that found itself lost in normally safe, developed land.”

Avoni felt foolish. She'd just been having fever dreams. They didn't have to mean anything, no more than any other dream. Ferise had been right, and she regretted even bringing it up.

The priestess resumed her rummaging in the satchel and pulled out a bottle, no taller than a normal cup and half the width, filled with a translucent reddish liquid. “I can offer you this, free of charge.” She set it on the table beside them, “Take one spoonful now, and another whenever you feel sluggish again. You'll feel full of zest in just a day or two.”

“Free?” Avoni glanced at the bottle and then back to the priestess. She knew that typically a donation would be expected, and wasn't sure if this was just Miara being virtuous as she was expected to, or if she genuinely was making a special case. She decided it was likely the former, and turned to retrieve a few coins from the pot she kept behind the Lessons.

Miara gently pushed Avoni's hand away. “I have no use for coin. It is only a small potion, after all.”

“Please, I insist... For the temple, if not yourself.”

This time, Miara accepted the coins, “Of course.” She dropped the coins into a pocket on her satchel, “Three bless you.” she smiled again. She had been smiling almost the entire time she'd been here, Avoni thought. While she was sure it was just expected of her, it also felt somewhat offputting.

“So, I take some now.”

She nodded, “Yes.”. Without being asked she produced a small spoon she must have retrieved from the counter on the way in.

Avoni gently wiggled the cork from the neck of the tiny bottle and gave it a cursory sniff. The stinging vapours from within rushed up her nose, and she let out a reflexive cough.

“Try not to think about the smell.”, Miara gave her another polite smile.

That was easier said than done, but Avoni carefully poured out a spoonful. The liquid was thinner than she had expected, these kinds of elixirs had always had an unpleasant thickness to them, she remembered. Sometimes even containing lumps of whatever they were made from if the alchemist had been particularly unskilled. She didn't want to think about that too much, so she shoved the spoon in her mouth and swallowed as quickly as possible.

The strong, bitter taste she had expected never hit. The sensation was closer to the faint burning that one felt after a strong drink, but more lingering. She winced a little, “What is this?”

“My own tincture.” she said in a matter-of-fact way. “It's every bit as effective as the base potion, but I find it takes the edge off.”

This was a turn she hadn't expected, “Alcohol!?” she stood up from her seat, wide-eyed.

“Hm. Partially, yes. I'm afraid it's not an outright cure, but it will certainly make you feel better until the illness passes, which it will in a couple of days.”

“How can you be so sure?” she scoffed, unable to believe that this priestess had just sold her some kind of alcoholic pick-me-up in place of a cure.

“Believe me, I've dealt with cases like yours, oh, many times before and the best thing to be done is to ease the feelings of fatigue until the symptoms pass. I guarantee it.”

“And you're on expert on this particular disease I suppose?”

Miara looked at her and shrugged, “Yes.” She said flatly, before turning to retrieve her satchel.

It dawned upon Avoni that she did in fact feel a little better already, “What else is in that stuff?” she asked, trying to hide her obvious suspicion.

The priestess thought for a moment, “Shalk resin, marshmerrow... Some other things. All with restorative properties, I assure you. It works quickly, doesn't it?”

Avoni realised she didn't know enough about medicine to know if anything Miara said had any credibility. “Okay.” She said firmly, trying to sound confident.

Miara shouldered her satchel and turned to leave, talking with her back to Avoni “I'll check in on you tomorrow. It shouldn't take long, unless you have any further questions of a theological nature, of course.”

Avoni wasn't sure what to say. She had half a mind to stop her, but what would that achieve? “Goodb-” The door closed before she could finish. She had no idea what to think of anything that had just happened. Bemusedly, she picked up the bottle and gave it another sniff – which she immediately regretted – and quickly popped the cork back on top. It made her feel good, but she wasn't sure it would actually do any good for her illness.

She left the potion behind, not sure if it was worth the trouble, and trudged back upstairs. She thought she would sit in the sun a little while longer, but by the time she reached the top of the stairs she felt a little sleepy again. Having another short lie down wouldn't hurt, would it? Ferise had told her to get some rest after all.

She lay on top of the bedclothes, and was fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos, I'd kind of given up on this partway through writing this chapter (A year ago, whoops...) but seeing that people were actually reading the first 2 and not hating it inspired me to open it back up and give it a... write?


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